“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Beneath all of the other issues and reasons at any given time, and perhaps the answer to your earlier voiced question, is the act that, more important than you realize, that for some time in vital areas you have not approved of yourselves. You have not had your own approval. An animal approves of itself unthinkingly. It certainly does not judge itself against any other animal. It knows quite well that some are stronger and some weaker, but it approves of its own uniqueness—glories in it, without having any other picture in its mind of what it should be. It has its own approval.

Ruburt believes he should be a TV personality, a healer, a writer, an excellent psychic versed in all of the most esoteric traditions, a magnetic personality. He believes he should be objectively intellectual, cool and calm, and spontaneous at the same time. He should be in glowing health—glowing—and shine amid the multitude. A rather impossible task, that would make any individual feel quite inferior by contrast.

Your intellect operates beautifully in the notes and appendixes of “Unknown,” but instead of rejoicing in it, you wonder if your notes lack the very kind of emotionalism that would make that particular kind of clear intellectual objectivity most difficult. When you are writing you are pleased, finally at least, with the working of your mind—but angry that you are not painting. When you are painting you feel guilty not only because the painting does not bring in money—by now not that much of a concern, only a nagging accusation—but there also you haggle at your intellect. You wish for the intensified emotional preoccupation that would close your mind to all else but painting.

You expect yourselves to be different people than you are—not appreciating at all the abilities and characteristics that you do possess, but forever weighing them against other abilities and characteristics that you have told yourselves you should possess.

Beside all that, you are trying to live your lives in a rather unique fashion, so that you are denied in large measure the comforts to which others flock. You see few people, so your moods can go unchecked by others, and you have found no measure to help break negative patterns effectively.

(“How is all of this hooked up with the walking difficulty?” By the question, I meant how has Jane’s walking difficulties through the years resulted from her feeling that she should be all those things Seth recounted at the start of this session—a TV personality, a great psychic, writer, and so forth. I didn’t make the question clear enough, so Seth answered it in more immediate terms—which is also valuable information, of course, that we can act upon. However, the original question remains, and I explained it to Jane after the session; she suggested I ask it again next time.)

He favors at this time one side, and all his weight and emphasis and direction bears him to the right. The left leg is longer so that the stress is presently applied to the right side. Both the angle of his head and jaw, and the position of his arms, are involved. But the neck, those ligaments and muscles, largely bear the strain so that pressure is put upon the jaw on the right side, and this to some extent impedes sinus drainage in that area.

All of Ruburt’s concerns about that book have to do with his impatience in time terms. That has to do with his misunderstanding for he has not seen, really, that he is producing work for two personalities that cannot be squeezed into conventional publishing rhythms.

Your feelings of hopelessness are your enemy. They must be encountered, not shoved under the rug. Often one could help the other, but when the feelings are not voiced they go underground. Ruburt should give himself so much time a day—an hour and a half, say—for free creative thought, writing or whatever that turns into poetry, painting? All right.

Now I bid you a fond good evening—and I hope you will use this session, with all of its implications.